You were a swimmer out in  
the dark center. I could sense your 
thrashing from my miles-away cave.  
I was digesting a midday meal,  
swam sluggish while flesh boiled  
to bones in my stomach.Your bare 
legs flashed like flares through  
murk, I watched strong kicks  
slow to weak-hearted flutters, stiff  
with cold. Even in your flickering,  
I was wary of you. My scar tissue 
stretched, I remembered centuries  
of clawing swimmers, boats, weapons 
stinging like teeth. I felt the urge to 
dive down deep, forget you, resurface 
once the water froze and thawed 
and your body was reduced to bones.  
I didn’t want you to die in the lake  
like a netted creature. I lifted you  
to the surface on my back. You  
wrapped your arms around me  
and shivered. I wished to turn my  
blood warm for you. Years later,  
I wish for the weight of your body  
around mine. You must be an old  
woman today. Even I am half-blind,  
crimped with age, but I would know  
you by your vibrations, the brush of 
your hand along the length of my neck.